and
curiosity led opposing sides. Many of them left the church in a white
fury, but others--more than I had expected--remained to speak to me
and assure me of their sympathy. Once on the streets, different groups
formed and mingled, and all day the little town rocked with arguments
for and against "the gal."

Night brought another surprisingly large attendance. I expected more
trouble, and I faced it with difficulty, for I was very tired. Just as I
took my place in the pulpit, Captain Sears entered the church and walked
down the aisle--the Captain Sears who had left us at my invitation some
weeks before and had not since attended a church service. I was sure he
was there to make another attack on me while I was down, and, expecting
the worst, I wearily gave him his opportunity. The big old fellow
stood up, braced himself on legs far apart, as if he were standing on a
slippery deck during a high sea, and gave the congregation its biggest
surprise of the year.

He said he had come to make a confession. He had been angry with "the
gal" in the past, as they all knew. But he had heard about the sermon
she had preached that morning, and this time she was right. It was high
time quarreling and backbiting were stopped. They had been going on too
long, and no good could come of them. Moreover, in all the years he
had been a member of that congregation he had never until now seen
the pulpit occupied by a minister with enough backbone to uphold the
discipline of the church. "I've come here to say I'm with the gal," he
ended. "Put me down for my original subscription and ten dollars extra!"

So we had the old man back again. He was a tower of strength, and he
stood by me faithfully until he died. The trustees would not accept
my resignation (indeed, they refused to consider it at all), and the
congregation, when it had thought things over, apparently decided that
there might be worse things in the pulpit than "the gal." It was even
known to brag of what it called my "spunk," and perhaps it was this
quality, rather than any other, which I most needed in that particular
parish at that time. As for me, when the fight was over I dropped it
from my mind, and it had not entered my thoughts for years, until I
began to summon these memories.

At the end of my first six months in East Dennis I was asked to take on,
also, the temporary charge of the Congregational Church at Dennis, two
miles and a half away. I agreed to do this until a